


Rekindled

by Morteamore



Category: Masquerada: Songs and Shadows (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Cicero Gavar - Freeform, First Time, Friendship, Frottage, Insomnia, M/M, PWP, Pining, Rimming, Spoilers, Vasco Tessitore - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 13:45:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12842442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morteamore/pseuds/Morteamore
Summary: Cicero glanced around the room once more, his gaze catching something he’d missed the first time. Picking up the bone flute from the nightstand, he turned it over in his hands, fingers running over the smooth surface as if it were a precious object. In a way, it was. Its very presence spoke of deep connections, memories both fond and aching, days gone by that he both wanted to remember and forget. The flute seemed to call to him....In which Cicero and Vasco can't sleep and take solace in each other's company.





	Rekindled

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my two betas, Conter & Lyn, who managed to help me hammer this into something mostly readable. And thanks to Birdie, who provided me with some humor over the course of the writing period. 
> 
> Blown-Ego did some [amazing fanart](http://blown-ego.tumblr.com/post/167970532007/rekindled-ao3-ey-check-out-my-friends-fanfic) for this, so check it out.
> 
> Enjoy!

Cicero sat upright in his bed, covers pooling around his clothed legs. He leaned back against his headboard, eyes darting around his small room, at the simple desk and chair, the bust rack on which his Inspettore clothing and cape lay draped, the slivers of moonlight shining in from behind the curtains across the bed. There was so much on his mind, too many thoughts crammed in his skull, all brimming over and manifesting as insomnia. He rubbed at his eyes, tired and dry as they were, and sighed.

Cicero glanced around the room once more, his gaze catching something he’d missed the first time. Picking up the bone flute from the nightstand, he turned it over in his hands, fingers running over the smooth surface as if it were a precious object. In a way, it was. Its very presence spoke of deep connections, memories both fond and aching, days gone by that he both wanted to remember and forget. The flute seemed to call to him, and he raised it to his lips, piping out a few spontaneous notes from his memory before he realized that the Astiguary’s residents were probably fast asleep. Not wanting to wake them, he laid the object in his blanketed lap, contemplating it.

Javs— no, no, it was Vasco now. Javs was dead and buried, mourned for the ages. It was Vasco who had saved his life when Avestus and Tristan would have sacrificed it; who had salted for him, endured a fracturing of his mind and body just so he could escape. The Bloodless was the closest among the lot he’d joined forces with that was a friend, though was that really fair to say when they had been the best of comrades in their youth? He had a head start over the others. Not that Cicero held many people close, anyway, and not out of disinterest. He’d been reserved in the past for many valid reasons, all of which had become no less valid since his return to the Citte. 

Lost in thought, the rapping at Cicero’s door did not go unnoticed. Before he could slip into something decent and ask who it was, the door creaked open. Tides, he’d forgotten to lock it! Foolish, given the circumstances surrounding his life lately. Grabbing for the sword at his bedside, he was about to ready it until he saw the figure in the doorway and let out a breath. His mind must have been divulging its secrets that night, for there stood Vasco himself.

“Couldn’t s-sleep. I heard…I-I heard you playing. You remember th-th-the song.”

Cicero’s face contorted with pity, but then he quickly regained his composure and replaced it with his signature stoic visage. “Yes, I remember our song. How could I forget it?” The Inspettore caressed the flute in his lap once more. “You should be resting. You’ve been through a great ordeal.”

“Wanted to s-speak with you. Privately, without— without the o-others…around.”

“You are in no condition to speak extensively. Please, try and sleep. It will help you mend.”

“Cicero…”

Cicero hummed, his eyes roaming over Vasco’s figure. The man was dressed in a tunic that was too large for him, one of the shoulders slipping down to reveal bare skin that was pale and unblemished. Cicero’s features softened once more. “Come sit then.” He patted the bed. “You can tell me of what’s on your mind.”

“Th-Th-Thank you.”

Vasco sat down at the foot of the bed, his movements slow, neck bowed as if in shame. Cicero, alert as he was, took note of his body language and scooted closer. “No, Vasco, thank _you_.” He reached out and placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder, his touch gentle. “I wouldn’t be in this bed if not for your sacrifice. You are truly a loyal companion where so many others can be deceitful in this Citte. I know that I’m guilty of harboring thoughts of you deceiving me at one point, and that you chose to hide your true self from me. But I’m glad my worries were for naught, and that our friendship could have such a reunion.”

A small smile crept along Vasco’s face, though it looked like it was a struggle for him to maintain the expression. His mouth trembled ever so slightly, thin lips pressed hard together.

“You don’t have to say anything further,” Cicero continued. “It’s I who should be lifting your burdens, not you mine.”

“You wouldn’t s-s-say these things,” Vasco gulped, “If you knew the thoughts with…w-within…”

Going quiet, the Inspettore let his hand slip away, eyes searching what he could see of Vasco’s face. He was no fool. When an individual said something such as that, they were either correct in their assumption, or exaggerating out of the sense of their own trepidation. Cicero hoped it was the latter, for he felt he would come to know even more betrayal in his life if the Bloodless truly thought of such things that would offend or repulse him.

“Speak them, then. If you’re afraid of any wrath they may bring, then it would come regardless of which way I’d find out. Secrets may linger in the shadows, but eventually they are exposed to the light.”

“B-but there are some shadows s-so deep and d-dark that the light…th-the light may never breach them.”

“Only in insignificant corners.”

“Do you remember when we w-were children, how we envied the M-M-Masquerada?”

Taken off guard by the question, it took a moment or two for Cicero to nod.

“How we longed to be freed of the binds that made us Contadani,” the Inspettore said, nearly sighing the words out. “But then you died before your potential could be fulfilled. Or so I was lead to believe. I’m glad such did not turn out to be the truth.”

“I-I wish…I wish that I h-hadn’t hurt—”

“I understand why you did it,” Cicero cut him off. “It lies in the past now. What I do not understand, however, is what this has to do with our discussion. What could you possibly have to hide from me that is tied to our youth? We were practically brothers.”

Letting his eyes flutter shut, Vasco gave a shaky sigh. “I…s-saw us as more than b-brothers.”

“More?”

“Y-yes. Cicero, I lo…I w-was in l-love….”

Silence descended, ponderous and thick. The Inspettore didn’t move, a feeling coming over him like he’d swallowed stones that were laying heavy in his gut. He could not speak, and his thoughts flowed like the sea at high tide. How could this be? How had Vasco hidden his true feelings so well in the past? Granted, Cicero had been young, but he’d been on the verge of manhood all the same. Here he’d climbed the ranks to become an Inspettore, and he hadn’t even figured out that Vasco had been Javs, let alone that the other Masquerada harbored feelings for him both then and now.

What was he to do in the face of this revelation? He wasn’t Talios, nor had he ever thought he’d be the object of one’s affections. And Vasco.... Vasco, of all the people that could’ve fallen in love with him! This felt like a madness he was too inexperienced to understand. Thus, some time had passed before he could bring himself to speak again, and he noticed that Vasco wouldn’t look at him.

“Vasco,” Cicero breathed, “listen to my words. It’s alright.”

“Is it, C-Cicero?”

“Yes….” the Inspettore closed his eyes, sighed, then slowly opened them once more. “Your affections are merely unexpected, not an object of repulsion. Surely you as well would be surprised to find out your childhood companion grew into a man with another identity, secretly loving you throughout the years?”

“More th-than surprised.”

“Then I trust you understand, old friend.”

“B-B-Bu—”

“No arguments.” Cicero shook his head. “I think we should both get some rest. Tomorrow will certainly be as long a day as today has been.”

“May we talk m-more, if we h-h-have the moments?”

“Of course. I believe this is a matter that needs discussing at length. Just not at this hour, and not with you in this condition.”

“I’m ok.”

“I’d prefer it if you were more than okay.”

“You-you w-w-worry—”

“I worry just enough.”

Vasco nodded, then, willing to accept Cicero’s response as a closure to the conversation. He slid from the bed, taking merely a step before stopping to turn and look back. “Goodnight, Cicero.”

“May you sleep as well as you can,” came the Inspettore’s response before he shifted on the bed and adjusted the comforter, laying his head on the pillow and trying once again to find elusive sleep.  
Vasco watched Cicero for a moment, palm of his hand pressing lightly against the door. “Actually,” he shut the door and turned to his friend, “c-could I s-stay?”

Cicero’s eyes fell upon the other man once more. His look was inquisitive and wary, but swiftly turned to a dull indifference only a lack of sleep could provoke. “I suppose that would be alright,” he said. “Just understand that I may keep you awake with my restlessness.”

“A-and I m-may you with m-mine.”

Without further ceremony, Cicero gestured to the unoccupied side of the bed for Vasco to climb in. The Bloodless slipped under the covers and curled up, leaving a generous enough gap between them without falling off the mattress. Cicero didn’t know how long he laid there, eyes wide open and staring at nothing, before he was sighing into the open air.

Vasco resisted the urge to look at him at first, but in the end his curiosity won out and he careened his neck, eying the Inspettore’s frame as he laid beside him. As if sensing eyes on him, Cicero turned towards him. It was then that the Bloodless turned over and rested on his back as well, letting out a shaky sigh of his own. The pair lay there in silence for another long bout, lost in their personal spindles of thought before Vasco was moving, the soft rustling of sheets accompanying him. 

“W-what s-s-sort of thoughts p-plague you?” There was a warm hand on Cicero’s stomach as Vasco spoke, the small tremors in his voice easy to catch in the heavy silence of the room.

“Countless,” Cicero breathed.

“Tell me.”

“There are far too many Vasco,” Cicero shook his head. “Don’t let my troubles keep you up. Please get some rest.”

“W-who needs sleep?” A soft chuckle fell from the Bloodless’ lips. “N-not I.”

Cicero couldn’t help but smile at his friend’s jest. “Yes, you do.”

Vasco shifted again, body elevated just enough to peer down at Cicero. “A-and you don’t?”

“Of course I need sleep.”

The Bloodless stared down at him for some time, eyes roaming over the entirety of Cicero’s face. “P-please, then, a-allow me to e-ease…ease your t-troubled mind.”

Cicero had a moment to look confused before the other man’s lips pressed against his bare shoulder with a tentative touch. It almost didn’t register at first, but then his eyes widened and he flinched back out of instinct. Vasco moved away as well, his expression reflecting that of shame.

“Cicero, I…I am sorry. I d-didn’t mean to....”

Cicero let himself relax then, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head as if trying to clear it. When he spoke, his voice was calm and even. “You’ve experienced a trauma only a Masquerada could truly know. The stress of such would make anyone seek comfort. Don’t worry about it.”

Throat bobbing, Vasco’s pupils were blown, their depths unfathomable. “Cicero….”

There was no warning to Vasco’s actions. One moment he was as still as a cat caught in the light, the next darting forward, his mouth descending on the other Masquerada’s. Cicero’s lips were warm, inviting, but Vasco didn’t let himself get drawn in too far. He could feel that Cicero wasn’t responding to the touch, that he laid frozen beneath him. Trying to draw away before he did something he regretted, he saw that Cicero was staring at him. The look in his eyes and the tension in his expression was telltale of a man warring with his thoughts.

“I can stop,” Vasco managed to get out. “I j-just n-needed to know what th-that felt like.”

Cicero didn’t answer, but he didn’t push Vasco away either. He seemed to find his voice after a few moments had passed. “Vasco, I’m….”

“T-tell me.”

“I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never laid with—”

“A man? I never th-thought you would have. That w-would be…it would ruin you. And h-here I-I am, balancing you on the p-p-precipice.”

“Anyone,” the Inspettore blurted out. “I’ve never experienced the pleasures of having someone share my bed.”

“Never?” The Bloodless’ mouth hung open slightly, struck speechless, the words having shook every last fiber of his being. He closed it as the concept settled in his mind, the thought being mulled over. “H-have you not e-even kissed s-someone?”

“Of course I have.” Cicero shut his eyes with a sigh. “But that’s as far as my romances have ever went. They have always ended with my call to duty and my elusiveness.”

“I-I’ve t-told you many times t-that you were too a-aloof.”

“Yes, you did, and indeed you were right.” Cicero frowned, looking away as he became lost in thought for quite some time. When he spoke again, his voice had dropped several octaves, the sound coming out in a rush of breath that was almost a mere whisper. 

“Perhaps I should remedy that.”

“It w-would be for the b-best. Maybe one of y-your female companions has c-caught your eye?”

“No.” Cicero shook his head to emphasize his reply. “I meant with you, Vasco.”

“W-what?” It was the other man’s turn to flinch. “This is m-my fault. I s-should have never instigated th-this. Y-your legacy—”

“Is in tatters already.” The conviction contained in Cicero’s words was as sharp as hurled shards of stone. “My brother has passed on, and fathering children is not in my near future, nor will it be in my far.”

“Then m-more than your legacy. Y-you’ll be looked upon as a p-p-pariah if anyone were to find out.”

“Being exiled for five years hasn’t done such already?”

“Y-you’re still r-respected as a person.”

“But how much?” Reaching up, Cicero grasped the sides of his friend’s face, palms caressing his smooth skin. Despite the hardships of his early years, and whatever had befallen him in-between, Vasco had retained his fine, youthful features. “You said you were in love with me. Now be my guide.” 

“Cicero…a-are you sure you w-want this?”

“I’m not. That, however, is not enough to stop me.”

Closing his eyes, Vasco leaned into the Inspettore’s touch, which became a grasp. Cicero tugged ever so gently, beckoning him closer.

“Kiss me again,” he said. “Please.”

And just like that, Vasco’s lips were pressing to Cicero’s once more, this time with heightened fervor. If his companion wanted it like this, so shall he give it to him. Again, however, he could feel Cicero’s lack of response, the stiffness in his muscles, and grew disheartened rather quickly. He was about to break away from him when the Inspettore’s arms wound around his neck and the pressure of his mouth increased.

It wasn’t the most forceful of kisses, but its tentativeness spoke of a deeper want and a desire to explore and experience. So the Bloodless let his instincts guide him, his tongue slipping into Cicero’s mouth in an attempt to gauge the other man’s reaction. There was a soft, small noise from him, but other than that he didn’t seem opposed to it. Even more surprising was that he started responding in turn, twining his tongue with Vasco’s, his movements languid. This time, Vasco fell deep into the sensations, allowing himself to be enslaved by them. He was aware of Cicero’s grip on him tightening, the other man’s desires beginning to bleed through.

Then Cicero pulled away and the spell was broken. The Inspettore took a deep breath and licked his swollen lips, trying to retrieve his bearings. He was addled by thoughts that urged him to continue, to descend further down into the depths of need. It wasn’t quite lust he was feeling, but a pull to Vasco as if a tightly woven thread conjoined them. Where he usually wasn’t the nervous sort, the thought of such made him so. These were not the simple emotions he had felt when he’d kissed those he’d found intriguing enough to catch his eye. There was something much more powerful at work here, and he drew the conclusion that it must have been because of his bond with Vasco all those years ago. When they kissed now, it had meaning behind it, and Cicero admired that.

“What shall you do to me next?”

Cicero said it not as someone who was ignorant of the explorations of couples, but as someone who was anticipating their partner’s next move. With eyes bright, Vasco leaned in again, his lips pressing against Cicero’s jaw.

“This.”

The Bloodless’ mouth moved down his companion’s neck, leaving a hot, wet trail of kisses, his teeth sometimes grazing the skin, nipping on other occasions with just the faintest of pressure. Cicero’s muscles relaxed with the feather-light touches, tensing when the sensations grew to be too much. As Vasco’s tongue snaked out and along his chest, he made a slight sound, as if surprised. The sound became louder as Vasco traveled lower, lips planting kisses along the Inspettore’s abdomen, down even lower, until he was at the hem of Cicero’s pants. He looked up, meeting Cicero’s gaze, the question that hung on the air not needing to be spoken.

Cicero didn’t respond right away, running a hand through Vasco’s thick hair and looking deep in his eyes as if he were drowning in them and unable to find the surface to break through. It wouldn’t be a terrible way to go, he thought, being overtaken by the other man’s presence. He moved his hands between them, shifting the covers away and rolling down his pants, lifting his hips to try and tug the loose material off, only realizing how warm his skin was when the touch of cool air seemed to refresh him.  
Vasco’s hands replaced his, gently edging them away and pulling the article of clothing down and off. Cicero’s cock lay flushed, but not entirely hard, the tip wet with pre-cum. Vasco ignored it for the moment, pulling Cicero’s legs apart, his mouth moving to press kisses to his inner thighs. The Inspettore’s body shivered at the touches. He should be embarrassed, laid bare and never having been touched like this before. But here he was, calm in the face of passion, giving himself over to Vasco’s manipulations with a reckless trust. He was neither when it came to day to day affairs, reckless or trustful. Things were so much different with his old friend, though, seeming to reach down into his very soul and calm it. He knew that Vasco would steer him true in the matters of pleasures of the flesh.

Still, that didn’t stop a wave of nervousness rolling through him when Vasco dipped his tongue lower, the delay of the emotion coming as a surprise. He was usually so defiant of his fears. That this could make him feel the most vulnerable he had ever felt was almost amusing.

Vasco’s tongue was like the softest of velvets as it touched against the sensitive area under his scrotum. Gasping, Cicero inclined his head, enjoying the excitement such actions unfurled in him, but fearing it as well, as he wasn’t quite sure what to anticipate from the Bloodless.

Suddenly his legs were being bent with the same gentle touch as before. Vasco took a pillow and encouraged Cicero to lift up his hips, fitting the soft, feather-filled object beneath the small of his back. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but it comprised his movement and exposed him, which made him turn away from Vasco’s gaze. Vasco noticed almost the very second he had done so and placed a palm against the Inspettore’s cheek, turning his head back.

“You have n-nothing to hide f-from me.”

“I feel like I’m on display.”

“But for m-my eyes o-only.”

Letting out a deep breath, Cicero nodded after a few seconds had passed, his eyes closing as Vasco dipped his head lower. He didn’t know what to expect next, but it wasn’t the feeling that had him squirming as if he’d been captured and hog-tied. A gasp escaped him, and his legs quivered in Vasco’s grip.

“What are you doing?” He sounded almost panicked.

“Relax, C-C-Cicero.”

Cicero tried to heed the words, but as something warm and wet danced across his sensitive passage, he flinched, hands digging into the sheets.

“Ages!” he gasped out.

There was no reply. Another stroke of warmth teased at Cicero, and then another, this time lingering, tracing over the muscled ring. His cock filled gradually with each new sensation until it was swollen and standing at full attention. Breathy noises escaped his lips, threatening to become something less subdued, less dignified. Still, Cicero managed to keep himself composed, if only by shear will. He told himself it was because he didn’t want to wake the others, but he knew it was mostly a matter of pride. If he let himself give in to his most base reactions, then his whole sense of self would collapse.

Vasco seemed to sense that he was holding back, though, and resorted to more advanced means of enticing his companion’s instincts. With a slight motion, he dipped the tip of his tongue within Cicero, causing the Inspettore to give a short cry. Whether the sound manifested from surprise or pleasure, it was hard to tell, but it left Cicero becoming unwound. Vasco could feel muscles slackening where he gripped the other man, turning to something as fluid and smooth as liquid. Doubling his efforts, he had Cicero almost whimpering, muscles pulling taut once more as he gripped him in his proverbial talons and flew him higher by wrapping his deft fingers around the Inspettore’s cock and giving a gentle squeeze. He stroked the other man in tandem with the movements of his tongue, ceasing only when he could feel Cicero growing too excited by his manipulations.

By then, Vasco’s own desires were surfacing, spiraling up as if they were magical forces. He was already hard from his and Cicero’s interactions, sharing his companion’s emotions through a vicarious bond. Straightening up, he shrugged out of his tunic and tossed it to the floor, revealing his thin and sinewy form. Cicero’s gaze was trained on him, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. Excitement and anxiety was twined in his expression like woven strands of rope. Vasco’s smile was wry as he stared back at him. He reached out, placing his palms on Cicero’s abdomen and smoothing them up to his chest. “I’ve p-p-pictured this in my mind for s-so long.”

“Vasco….”

The Bloodless lowered himself, aligning his frame with Cicero’s. Cicero gasped as he felt the other man’s erection brush against his own, soft as velvet yet still a firm pressure. Vasco rolled his hips, his own breath hitching as his cock passed over Cicero’s once more. He could feel the Inspettore’s length throb against him, feel the ache for release resonate through him. There was a slight slickness between them that made the glide easier, the product of their combined eagerness and arousal. Cicero’s body arched of its own accord, Vasco’s mouth enveloping his as it did. The Inspettore responded with borderline desperation, body grinding up against his companion’s, muffled sounds coming from between the seal of their locked mouths. Vasco bore down hard against him as if they were at war, the pleasure of the pressure akin to a fine delicacy. He broke away from Cicero’s mouth just the slightest fraction to bite his bottom lip, tugging on it. Perhaps he was being too rough, but Cicero didn’t complain, so he took that as a sign that the Inspettore was enjoying himself.

Reaching down, Vasco wrapped his fist around both their cocks and squeezed them together, pumping while they rutted against each other. Cicero’s breathing quickened, loud enough to be audible, Vasco grunting above him, the sounds they made and the movements of their bodies almost synchronized. He could feel Cicero was close by the way his body was tightening like the strings of a fine instrument, but this time he didn’t halt his actions. He wanted to push his friend over the edge, let him bask in the immense waves of pleasure that would overtake him from the experience before he gave him a true bedding. It was the sweetest of preludes.

That was, if they ever coupled again.

With a loud moan that was certainly going to wake one of the others, Cicero’s body jerked as if he were a marionette whose strings had been yanked all at once. A few more passes of Vasco’s hips against his, and the Inspettore was racked by his orgasm. Warm semen spattered against both their bodies, Vasco grinning at the shear amount of it. It seemed his friend had been pent up for quite some time. Cicero was shuddering with oversensitivity as Vasco’s body stilled, the pair of them gleaming with Cicero’s finish. Vasco seemed unperturbed as his fist slackened and released them, but the Inspettore grimaced, his expression morphing into a frown. Darting in, Vasco pressed his lips to the corner of his mouth then slipped away, floor creaking as he stood from the bed. He padded over to a closet, rummaging around in it until he found an extra sheet. Instead of going back to the bed, he considered the room until his eyes fell on a jar on top of the largest dresser. Picking it up, he opened the lid and inspected it before carrying it over. Without a word, he set it down on the mattress then used the new sheet to wipe along Cicero’s torso, cleaning him with efficiency.

“Better?” Vasco asked, setting the sheet aside.

Cicero nodded.

“Don’t you wish to be clean as well?” The Inspettore didn’t wait for an answer before he continued almost in the same breath. “Thank you, old friend.”

“Ah, d-don’t thank me y-yet. I am f-far from finished w-with you.”

Cicero’s eyebrows darted towards his hairline. He looked at his flaccid length, at his still bent knees, at Vasco poised in-between them and fiddling with the jar he’d taken from the night stand. Cicero’s mind was swift at best, a complete force of reasoning to be reckoned with when he was at his highest pinnacle. Right now he was somewhere between those states.

“That’s my healing salve.” His voice had the tone of curiosity, the way an inquisitive cat would invade a new space to get a sense of its surroundings. “Whatever do you plan to do with—”

“It also works a-as a fine l-l-lubricant in a pinch. T-trust me, it won’t harm you.”

“You don’t mean to use it for….”

“W-would you prefer I sneak to the k-kitchen and try to swindle a c-container of oil?”

“I would think that was the easier decision. The oils I’ve used to pleasure myself in the past were very delicate, though, so I doubt they’ll have those lying around. It’s been a long time since I carried any on my person, too. I’m afraid my days of private time have withered on the vine of duty.”

“What a sh-shame, that your experiences have been so l-limited. Coupling is most im-important for a healthy mind and b-body.” Dipping his hands in the salve, Vasco began to work the viscous goo into his fingers. “A-as I-I-I’ve learned through my years.”

“Have you bedded many?”

“Some ways of g-gathering information are more effective th-than others.”

“I see.”

Vasco sighed, rubbing at Cicero’s thigh with his clean hand. “Th-this is n-n-not like those other times, Cicero,” he said, the slick fingers of his other hand dipping lower. “Th-this… it means s-s-something to me.”  
If Cicero was about to reply, he didn’t get a chance. Vasco touched a finger to his entrance, rubbing in small circles, getting it prepared. The Inspettore’s body squirmed, not having expected for Vasco to pleasure him so suddenly.

“This m-might feel p-peculiar,” Vasco warned before he pressed the tip of his finger past the tight ring of muscle. There was some resistance, but it slid in after a bit of gentle working.

It wasn’t as intrusive of a feeling as Cicero was expecting, and he laid there making the softest of groans. It surprised him how he’d succumbed to the pleasantries of the sensation with such haste, having believed it would have taken him longer to adjust. Then again, it was just a single finger, and the thrusts of Vasco’s hand were shallow. The Bloodless allowed him a lengthier time to settle into the feeling than he needed to before a second finger teased at his rim. Vasco slid it in little by little, the stretch different than the initial one. This time, it was a bit painful but no more than some of the minor battle nicks and scratches he’d endured in his lifetime. Cicero was used to a much more serious brand of soreness than this. He could endure, even when Vasco inched the fingers in further. Realizing he was holding his breath, he let it out in an audible rush. The fingers plunged even deeper, twisting inside him. Soon he could feel Vasco’s knuckles brushing up against his skin and a slow, warm feeling pooling in his gut every time his companion’s appendages drove into him. The Bloodless spread his fingers out, causing Cicero to shudder with the sudden pressure. Despite his intense orgasm earlier, his cock gave a lone throb of arousal. It wouldn’t be long until he’d be hard again, if Vasco kept up his ministrations.

Vasco continued to ready Cicero for some time before he removed his fingers. Cicero felt empty without them, surprised he was even pining for them to be filling him once more. It was strange, that longing, unlike something he had ever felt before. He sought Vasco’s gaze, their eyes locking, Vasco smiling when he saw the look Cicero was giving him. With his clean hand, which had been busy stroking along the Inspettore’s body, he reached up and smoothed Cicero’s hair back. “I c-c-can’t guarantee that I-I won’t hurt you.”

“It’s alright. I want this.”

“Do you? R-really?”

“Very much so.”

His movements were hesitant, but Vasco eventually took up the salve again and scooped a sizable amount on to his hand. Reaching for his rigid length, he worked it into the shaft, his movements slow, the breathiest of sounds emitting from him. Cicero watched him, anticipation running wild, tinged with sweet unease. When Vasco spread Cicero’s legs wider, he had to suppress a shiver. Maneuvering himself, the Bloodless edged his hips closer, until the head of his cock was aligned with Cicero’s entrance. The Inspettore hissed as it prodded against him and gained passage by half an inch. His body bore down, muscles tightening out of instinct, eyes squeezing shut. Vasco’s hips remained steady, not wanting to push in more until Cicero had adjusted. Beneath him, slow as honey rolling off a spoon, Cicero relaxed and breathed in deeply. The Bloodless took this as his cue to move in further, which stirred a moan from his companion.

Cicero did not lie to himself: as interesting a feeling that it was, it was also painful to take Vasco inside him. Nothing excruciating, but the feeling was more uncomfortable than the fingers had been. The Inspettore’s instinct was for all his muscles to seize up at once and then, when he realized what he was doing, loosen up again. The pulse of his body against Vasco made him wince, and there seemed to be nothing to neither soothe nor calm it.  
At last, with patience dwindling, Cicero urged his companion on, trying not to cry out too loudly as he was penetrated even deeper. This time, when he tried to relax, it almost seemed impossible. It felt like every one of his nerves were singing, stimulated to the point of being both raw and pleasurable at the same time. He didn’t know how to come down from this, nor if he even wanted to. And still Vasco was sliding ever further in, Cicero’s breath catching now as if he was forgetting how to breathe every so often. There was an especially sharp gasp from him as Vasco hilted within him, born both from discomfort and surprise.

Vasco reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair from the Inspettore’s forehead in an attempt to soothe him. He leaned in, kissing Cicero deeply, who kissed him back with a shaking frame. They stayed like that for some time, mouths locked in the most gentlest of battles, bodies pressed tightly together. It was gradual, but Cicero felt himself relaxing, pain receding until it was nothing but a dull ache that rung like a pang of desire rather than anything tangible. He wound his arms around his companion, arching up against him, cock having stiffened once more. Vasco couldn’t help but pull his mouth away and give a soft, curt chuckle. He accented it by sliding his hips back and gliding them forward, his movements slow and careful.

The moan the Inspettore let out was long and low, his blunt fingernails indenting Vasco’s skin. As the Bloodless started up a rhythm, Cicero’s fingers dug in harder, raking downwards and leaving red streaks in their wake. The body above him remained unhurried, a soft sound slipping past his friend’s lips. His thrusts were shallow, only edging against the most sensitive spot within him. Cicero couldn’t help the quiet groans that escaped him with each stroke, his eyes going half-mast with pleasure, his entire body feeling sensitive to the touch.

When Vasco bit the junction between his neck and shoulder, he felt the pressure as acute as a burn, though it lingered only a moment. The feeling melted into something desirable, something that shot like lightning straight to his groin. As Vasco bit along his collarbone, his groans got heavier, the Bloodless pushing deeper inside him until the noises he was making became boisterous, loud enough to carry through the walls and perhaps wake a light sleeper, if there was any among their party. Neither of them seemed concerned, too wrapped up in the moment.

It wasn’t long before Vasco’s hips were picking up pace, the breathy sounds he’d been making rising in volume until they were on the border of competing with Cicero’s.

“Ages, Vasco!” Cicero’s voice was hoarse as the Bloodless thrust hard against his tightened walls, rubbing against that perfect spot with an acuteness born of experience. Vasco was nothing if not precise in his actions, and there was a fire to the way his body undulated that was telltale of him knowing it. He filled his friend entirely, the suddenness of his length slipping in making Cicero hiss in a breath.

As Vasco ground against him, the Inspettore’s legs went around his back out of instinct, pulling him closer. It may have been his first time, but Cicero’s body knew what it wanted. Just when he thought it couldn’t possibly get any more pleasurable, Vasco’s fingers slid around Cicero’s length. They were still slightly slippery from the salve as they pumped him in time with the rhythm of his hips, every upstroke sending his thumb swirling around the head, dancing over the wet, sensitive slit with a deft touch. Cicero’s grip on the Bloodless became tighter, nails scrabbling at him now. They would likely leave welts or even scratches. Cicero would’ve been concerned if his mind hadn’t been ensconced by pure flame. Something inside him was coiling in on itself, ready to spring forth at any moment. Each time the bed jostled with his and Vasco’s movements, it seemed to want to uncoil even more so. He was becoming undone, no longer able to hold it back any longer.

This time, when his orgasm hit him, it was almost like Vasco had reached into his chest and tore out his soul. He arched off the bed, body seizing up like a vice, his cries of release even louder than the noises he’d been making as he called out Vasco’s name. Someone was _certainly_ bound to be awoken this time.

Vasco removed his hand from Cicero’s cock, making a show of licking it clean as he continued to thrust into him, movements getting sloppier. Soon he was throwing his head back, length plunging deep inside Cicero as his own orgasm grasped him in its clutches, his release a warm torrent that seeped between where they were joined and dampened the bed sheets. They both were breathing hard, panting in erratic rhythms, their gazes locking.

Cicero, when he could find the breath, pulled Vasco into a tender kiss, stroking his hair as he tasted himself upon the Bloodless’ lips. “Can we stay like this awhile?” he asked after pulling away, voice soft.

Vasco just nodded.

Silence settled over them like a heavy duvet, Vasco resting his forehead against Cicero, pleased that the Inspettore seemed to be as content as he was as they lay there just embracing. Feelings of warmth and ecstasy engulfed him. Such a long stretch of time between the ages where they had both grown into men, and he finally had Cicero back. What was more important, he’d been his old friend’s first, and that seemed to bridge the bond between them that had weakened over time. It would be different now. He was sure of it.

As for Cicero, the situation had given him some resolution. He had felt such a deep loss when Javs died, and had missed him with a fierceness of the heart that had staggered him for quite some time. For them to have such a reunion, share such intimacy, had him floating somewhere in the stratosphere. It was surreal but almost tangible at the same time. His happiness was immense, though, as he lay beneath Vasco, having touched upon something he often did not. He wished he could feel this way for more people, then quickly dispelled the notion. Vasco was one of the only people that he could share this with, and he didn’t want to let go, fearing if he did he’d be lost wandering in his own thoughts, guilt, and isolation all his life. The Bloodless was his anchor to the world, now, and there was no way he was going to lose him.

Seemingly reading his mind, Vasco’s words were soft with a tenderness that was a rare revelation for him. His ne’er’-do-well attitude had shed like he’d been wearing a veil all this time.

“I’m n-never going to l-leave you again.”

Cicero couldn’t find the words to answer, so he just let his expression soften even more than it had, knowing his old friend would be able to read and understand the reaction. 

Eventually Vasco pulled out, sliding next to Cicero but never breaking contact. Cicero moved the pillow out from beneath his body so he could face Vasco and nestle into his arms.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“I-it was an h-honor.”

“You have my utmost appreciation.” He paused, humming in thought. “What would you think if I said I’d like to pursue this further?”

“I…a-are y-you sure? Th-there will be c-consequences.”

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t.”

“Then….” Vasco didn’t say anything for a long time, his hand running along his companion’s neck, down his shoulder, against his chest. He seemed to be memorizing all the lines and planes of the Inspettore’s body. When he spoke, though, his voice was warm and jovial. “Yes. I’d l-like that.”

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door that made them both flinch. It still wasn’t locked, and Cicero felt heat creep up his cheeks at the notion someone could walk right in if they had a mind to. He didn’t think any of the others did, but he couldn’t put the thought completely out of his mind.

“Who’s there?” he said as he tried to keep his voice from being high with worry.

But the door didn’t creak open, and nobody answered right away. After a long enough time had passed, in which Cicero had figured the person had left, he heard a nervous but familiar voice from the other side.

“Are…are you two finished in there?” It was Amadea’s voice. “I’d like to get some rest, and I can’t sleep with all the noise.”

Cicero looked at Vasco, trying to suppress a chuckle.

“W-well, you s-should answer her,” Vasco said in an amused whisper.

“Yes, yes. I apologize,” Cicero called out, unable to help the humor that ran through him. “Sleep well, Amadea. I’ll speak with you in the morning.”

This time when she spoke, Amadea’s voice was filled with its own wryness. “Goodnight then, Cicero.”

“Goodnight, Amadea.”

There was a short pause before she spoke again. “You too, Vasco.”

Cicero laughed once he heard her retreating footsteps, and Vasco joined in after a moment, happy to see that his friend could appreciate the absurdity of the situation. It was a delicate matter, sure, but also an amusing one.

After a time, Cicero sighed, his eyelids growing heavy, lethargy finally befalling him. He could see that it was descending upon Vasco as well, both of them satiated and worn out at last. There was nothing left to do now but bask in the afterglow.

And that’s the way they found sleep, entwined with each other, Vasco clinging to Cicero as if his life depended upon it.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me over on Tumblr at [Morteamore](http://morteamore.tumblr.com/)


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